#but here goes nothing

[manfuckthisimout]

I promise to god if that man looked at me like this?

FOLDED IMMEDIATELY!

Let me take you through my mid for a moment:

Yoongi doesn’t argue.

He simply doesn’t have the energy to waste on something little and petty like that.

Unless it’s something relationship changing, he’s not going to dwell on it. He prefers to squash the little stuff in favor of peace and solitude.

But that doesn’t mean you can talk crazy to him.

“You know what, fuck the dinner! I don’t care anymore, you can starve for all I care!” Yoongi has been coming home late for three days now, often taking his work home with him. You came into his home studio to ask him what he wanted you to make for dinner, but you were only met with short answers. “Like I said babe, make whatever you want. I’m gonna eat it regardless, just lemme finish this.”

Yoongi was knee deep in producing something or another for some artist in the industry. His work was superb, but he often threw himself into it, often neglecting eating or sleeping for hours at a time. You just wanted to sit down and have a nice meal with your boyfriend, is that too much to ask? “I’m asking you because I want to make something you’d eat now, not after I go to bed.” You spat, eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m still gonna eat regardless, what does it matter the time?” Yoongi replies, his voice cool. You can’t see his expression, for his back is turned to you, but you just know that furrow that appears when he’s focused on two things at once is present between his brows.

You storm over beside his desk, forfeiting your position in the doorway a few seconds prior. “I know you eat Yoongi, but it’s timing that matters! You can’t keep neglecting your needs for some stupid beat that will still be here tomorrow!” You holler, your frustration getting the better of you. His eyebrows raised at the mention of his name. You kept going, “Y’know, why is it you keep bringing this shit home anyway? Are you too busy at work doing something else than get this done? Or someone? Am I not enough for you anymore Yoongi? Is that it?” You seethe.

Yoongi’s head whipped up and over to you so fast you hardly saw it happen. His chair was turned around now, parallel to you standing beside his desk.“What did you say? Say it again.” He says, his voice dangerously low. He was looking at you, daring you to make your assumption again. You were taken aback, almost tripping over his chair due to the sheer closeness of him. But stupidly, you did not yield. “Are you sleeping with another girl! Is that why you seemingly never have anytime for me anymore?” You hiss. His brows raise further, pinching at the top of his forehead to make wrinkles in his skin. He looks positively bewildered, speechless by your audacity.

You two stay like what feels like an eternity. Not blinking, hardly breathing. Suddenly Yoongi turns in his chair and unceremoniously closes his laptop. He’s up and out to his chair a moment later, and approaching you. Cornering you onto the couch that sits besides his desk. “You think…I would cheat on you? Over something as petty as dinner?” His voice is still that same tone, and you suddenly feel like prey about to get eaten whole by its predator. You’re fucked. Suddenly your knees are weak and you can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Yoongi’s eyes are slits, his brows still in that same pinch from when he was sitting down.

“I get the taking care of myself part. I get you wanted to do something nice for me. But assuming I’m cheating on you because I took home some work? I don’t know how you could think that,” Yoongi says, cool and collected. He’s cornered you so far that you’ve fell onto the couch, on your back, facing him. He climbs on top of you. Lowers his face inches from yours. “I have everything I need laying out in front of me. Why would I ever step out?” He says softly.

You’re speechless, a flush crept onto your cheeks. You can feel his breath fanning over you. He’s looking deep into your eyes, following your head movements to keep the contact going. “Answer me, hm? Why would I do that?” Yoongi leans down to press fleeting kisses into your neck. “I-I don’t know…” You say, meek and shy with your words. You feel like an idiot for ever thinking it. Here is this man, tired, hungry—still proving to you that he loves you no matter what.

“You don’t know and..?” Yoongi replies. He pulls from your neck, resting his lips onto your forehead. “I was silly for thinking it. I-I know you would never do that to me. I’m sorry honey.” Yoongi pecks your forehead, leaning back to look at you. He smiles. “I forgive you. Just—don’t do that to me again, please? I don’t know if my heart can take it.” You nod. “Can I have a kiss?” You ask, shyly looking into his eyes. “Of course my love.”

Note: I’ve never written anything this long! (At least not about yoongi lol) this was going to be short like the rest of my content, but it turned into this.

I hope you enjoy!

[humblepoet26]

Praised be the butch who attempted lingerie? ❤️🍒❣️🍎

[anastasia-orlov]

Tiktok kinda hates me, in the last two days I got so many anti Nesta on my FYP.

And seeing at least few of them till the end got me in to thinking.

What are reasons that I love her so, so much. Like seriously people she is my “roman empire” and she is not even real. And I came to this conclusion.

Nesta might be not a “good” person in the sense of how you portray heroes in the media as a whole.

But she is without doubt the most interesting and best written character in the whole series. At least in my opinion.

There are characters who are likable or a few of them were interesting for a period of time but somehow they lost their emotions and personality along the way. They became somehow empty and hollow. And at least me myself lost the connection to them, lost the ability to feel for them.

Nesta is through the whole series someone who brings strong emotions out of me and to the story itself be it negative or positive.

She is someone who brings conflict and realness. And that I find most refreshing is. She is someone who self-reflects her own persona and one of the few characters who actually feel remorse. Her wrongdoings aren’t romanticized, there isn’t some pretty excuse for it. She did wrong things because she did wrong things, just like that.

She is gray not as “morally grey” but gray like a real human being. If you think about it we as humans are all somewhere in the gray area. I think not one of us sees himself or herself as just bad or evil person. We all have reasons for the things we do.

And Nesta is a perfect character to show that.

And I am sorry but even-though she is a real bitch sometimes and even tough she is absolutely not the perfect “good” person for me she is the only, reason I stayed with this series as long as I did. Like seriously THE ONLY reason.

I love her because she is the most interest in most captivating and the best written character. That’s it, that’s the reason.

[gunkyengines]

Genuine curiosity talking here, to those who see this post within the community: what do you classify as a proshipper and/or an anti? because there's never any consistency in the definitions I see, and because of that I have a subzero understanding of what most of the discourse actually is about. I feel I'm a little removed from the situation because I'm not necessarily aligned with anything bc of the lack of ideological read I'm getting from it. Only rule on this post is to not start discourse on it, I'm fucking begging, just let me know how you define the terms.

[blueheronpronouns]

One of my friends said that Pearl (from the hit game series Splatoon) has the same energy as Angela (from the hit YouTube channel Smosh) and something possessed me to create this,,,, (image under cut cause it's really big for some reason)

[beygrade]

Mayblade 2023 Day 24: Memories

Title- Alcohol: Mankind's worst enemy

@may-blade

***

Tala sat cross-legged on the couch; his fingers closed around the vodka bottle. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Beside him, Kai frowned and leaned back, the look on his face contemplative. “No, but it hurt when I crashed your car. I almost broke my leg.”

“Oh, sexy,” Tala said absently. “Forget rash driving, they should revoke your license for driving so many girls crazy. That’s more illegal.”

The recording ended abruptly, and present-day Tala stared at the screen in horror. The blood rushed to his face. The whole team had been drinking last night, and he had no memories whatsoever of what had transpired. Tala suppressed a groan. He’d been hitting on Kai, of all people? What was wrong with him?

Tala dared to cast Kai a sideways glance now, but the latter’s expression was as unreadable as ever. Bryan, however, seemed to have no qualms about embarrassing Tala further. Some spaghetti strands were still on Bryan’s hair- a result of the food fight he’d gotten into with Ian earlier. Before Tala could point this out, however, Bryan drew his phone back, and doubled over with laughter.

“What are those pick-up lines?” Bryan wheezed. “I didn’t know you were this bad, Tala.”

Tala, in response, scowled at Kai. “What the hell was that bullshit about crashing my car, shithead?”

Kai glanced back at Tala, eyes narrowed. “Never try to sweet talk to me again. You’re lucky I was too drunk to gag.”

Why are these idiots so hung up on the least important issue here? Tala thought irritably.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Bryan said, with a snort. “You didn’t realize he was flirting with you despite the fact that he used the most overused pick-up lines in the history of overused pick-up lines.”

Kai threw Bryan a look, but before he could retort, Tala muttered, “Don’t change the topic. Why the hell didn’t you mention you got into a car crash until now?”

“It wasn’t a car crash,” Kai replied. “Just a couple of dents. Don’t start bitching. I got them fixed already.”

Tala’s brows rose. “That’s not the problem here, dumbass. Your leg-”

“Don’t start fussing over me either,” Kai said, crossing his arms. “I’m fine.”

Tala sighed with exasperation. “I’m never lending you my car again.”

“Good to know you don’t condone rash driving, after all,” Bryan said, with a smirk.

Tala glared at him. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

Bryan burst into laughter again, and Tala shook his head, exasperated. He hated drinking, alright. Tala was what people called a ‘lightweight’, and the slightest bit of alcohol got him high. The worst part was not even the hangover that’d follow, but the fact that he had no recollection of what happened. Had he done something more embarrassing than hitting on Kai? Maybe it was for the best that he didn’t remember. The only way to preserve his sanity would be to not dig further into those memories.

[spookysushi]

Oh god

[flusteredbard]

SHOP RE-OPENING!!

I have some very exiting news… after a long hiatus I will be re-opening my Etsy store! I am so thrilled to bring back my stickers with much higher quality materials AND I will be working with a manufacturer for the first time to make charms, standees and even pencil cases! It will be opening in just a few weeks and your support would mean the world to me! I’m a small queer independent artist not doing this for any profit but simply because I love the fandoms and communities I create for. This is my first venture into outsourcing and I’m very nervous to open up after over a year of being away. You can support me by sharing my art on here or even favoriting my shop before the update. The fandoms that are currently going to be available upon re-opening are:

Control (stickers, lanyard keychains)

Mischief (stickers, keychains, standees)

Taskmaster (lanyard keychain)

Hlvrai (stickers)

Root (stickers)

Wolf 359 (stickers)

And more to come! Thank you all for sticking with me and be on the look out for the designs that are coming! 

Link to my shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/Flusteredcreative?ref=profile_header

[thedenofravenpuff]

Netværksmøde for aseksuelle i Danmark, på Buens Bogcafe i Aalborg, lørdag den 19. august!

Jeg medbringer hjemmelavet muffins!

Translation: Network meeting for asexuals in Denmark, at Buens Bogcafe in Aalborg, Saturday the 19th of August.

I bring homemade muffins!

[jemichiart]

I do freelance illustrations and commissions. Most of my art is about animals or fantasy (I love drawing creatures of any kind) and the usual art style is semi-realistic with a cartoony touch and vibrant colors that appeal to the younger audience, for example as book covers or picture book illustrations.

My animal art is also available as prints on INPRNT.

I’m about to publish a pirate fantasy picture book for children. Please follow me for more updates on that. ^^

For those looking for fan art, my current obsessions are Trigun and Don’t Starve. My old main fandoms include One Piece, Digimon, My Hero Academia, Star Wars Rebels, SWTOR, the Thrawn books, and Critical Role.

I have been on Tumblr for years, but because my interests vary and change, and half of my works are original, I don’t have a large following here. This account is for my art only, so it will never spam content, even if we aren’t active in the same fandom at the moment.

Thank you for allowing artists a platform to advertise their works! ❤

If you're an artist and are having trouble building followers, especially if you're new on tumblr or back after leaving, reblog this with some of your art. It will be visible to everyone checking the notes. Everyone keep checking the notes and follow whoever puts their cool art in them. People keep telling me I'm Tumblr famous so maybe this helps!

[fenristheulv]

Hey! I just saw a post that suggested green ad the colour of hope cause its the colour of new growth after a forest fire and stuff(if this interpretation of the poll is incorrrct then shh! I'm running with this), but I've always thought about it as yellow, cause of lights in windows when it's dark out so I've always associated it with heat cause its cold and dark where I live. And now I'm wondering if its a regional connection.

Now, for all others options, please tag what you think, also i understand that "somewhere warm/cold" are subjective but I think of it as if it regularly snows in spring then its cold(for me that's March forward, i know the layout looks a little different in other parts of the world)

Please reblog for a larger sample size

[gendersucksstartaband]

Okay, friends, I'm posting my first Kinktober writing here. It's for #15, which is Bratting/Brat-taming. It's between my two characters Avery and Logan.

Some warnings before we get into it: Avery does slap Logan across the mouth, but it's more meant to stun him than hurt him.

This writing is short, because I'm still figuring out how to write Logan's bratting and how Avery deals with it, but here we go. Posting the prompt under the read more. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think, if you're so inclined. <3

Also tagging @amingusamongus as you were the first person to suggest a number to me. Thank you!!

“If you insist on acting like a brat, I’m going to have to treat you like one,” Avery says testily. He’s not close to snapping at Logan, he has too much self-control for that, but sometimes his pup needs a reminder of who exactly is in charge in their relationship.

Logan opens his mouth to say something snarky, but he doesn’t get a chance because Avery’s hand quickly darts out to smack him across the mouth. It’s not a hard slap, and Avery’s not angry, but it certainly does the job and Logan shuts his mouth, looking stunned as he does so.

“That’s it,” Avery says smugly. “If I knew all it would take to get you to shut up and listen was smacking you on the mouth, I would have done this a while ago.”

Logan narrows his eyes and opens his mouth again, but Avery raises his hand and Logan reluctantly shuts his mouth. Not that he didn’t enjoy the slap, it certainly got him interested, but he knows that Avery doesn’t often choose corporal punishment as how he gets his point across.

Avery smiles then, like he often does when Logan finally obeys him. If it weren’t for Logan’s contrary nature, he’d do whatever it took to keep Avery smiling at him like that. However, considering his difficult nature, Logan often finds himself facing down Avery’s frowns until he corrects his behavior. 

“You’re a good boy,” Avery tells Logan, whose eyes narrow like he’s certain Avery is fucking with him, but he lets Avery continue, “You just need to be reminded of that sometimes, don’t you?”

Not sure if that’s a trick question or not, Logan reluctantly nods, and Avery smiles at him again.

[itsscaredycat]

meet marcos and harley! my newest ocs, they do urbex and ghost hunting together

top pic is their up-to-date designs, second is the very first sketch i did of them back in july, and the last two are more early sketches that i like

i have more art of them to come….. i’ve been drawing them nearly nonstop for over a month now in-between work and other projects 😅

[owocontroversy]

because i'd like to do this on diwali (and also because i'm not very original), here goes...

if this gets 7k posts by jan1st 2024, i'll learn how write a song. and write one. that i'm happy with.

if it gets 10k posts, i'll do my best to produce + record it.

[bloggingboutburgers]

Yeah, I know "not all aro/aces" and all, but please don't use "not all aro/aces" as an excuse to not explore anything exclusively aro/ace ever. Otherwise any trace of aro/aceness might end up effectively lost to fandom osmosis.

To sum up... If you wouldn't be homophobic that way, please don't be aphobic that way.

[bleublooded]

IIYAK NA NAMAN TAU NETO WHAHAH

HOLD ME CLOSE (HOLD ME TIGHT) (3.8k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. masaru has a stroke that nearly kills him. bakugou handles it well—until he doesn’t.

cw. pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (32), established relationship, mentions of illness, themes of grief, discussions of past trauma (bkg's)

a/n. i hope y'all cry because this made me cry lmao. writing really is easy if you take heavy inspiration from your personal experiences lol. this is written from bkg's pov, and serves as a mini character analysis as well ig?

bakugou remembers it clear as day.

it was only a few weeks after the two of you celebrated his 32nd birthday in a secluded resort out of town when he got the call.

he was in the middle of chastising his klutz of a sidekick’s ear off for forgetting to submit an important case report when his phone started ringing, and the very fact that it wasn’t your ringtone further soured his already worsening mood.

with a final reprimand laced with an hr-appropriate amount of expletives, he dismissed the rookie, leaving him alone in his pristine, corner office.

he recalls sighing in annoyance upon seeing the caller id, as well as his clipped tone when he greeted the old hag with a curt, “what.”

that annoyance was immediately replaced with alarm, however, when his usually bright mother spoke into the microphone, her typically level voice shaking with unmistakable fear.

“it’s your father, katsuki…” she started, and he instantly braced himself for the impact.

mitsuki takes a shaky inhale. “…he’s having a stroke. we’re on the way to the hospital. please, come here.”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

he remembers being on autopilot—the entire way to the suburban peripheries of musutafu where his parents decided to move after he got his own place at the age of 22. he’s not entirely sure—the journey over now a hazy blur—but he might’ve sent you the link to his location, because you magically arrived at the local hospital around fifteen minutes after him.

the moment he saw you burst into the entrance of the emergency room, a huge, tidal wave of relief immediately washed over him, he thought he could’ve collapsed. the second you lock eyes, he witnessed a whirlwind of emotions dance across your beautiful features, before you ran over to where he stood near the vending machine, unceremoniously crashing into his arms.

at that point, he had no idea what made you drop everything—including the precious work that you do—and just follow him based on an ambiguous gps locator he sent you without context, but he was glad you did.

because it was only as you held him so close to you all the while soothing his back and chanting soft ‘it’s okay’s’ in his ear did it hit him.

the fact that he’s fucking terrified.

it must’ve been at least three hours of stewing in tense silence in the emergency room’s waiting area before the two of you finally saw mitsuki.

he remembers the way his heart ached when he first laid eyes on his mother, someone who’s typically radiant and spirited and happy, now looking too frail and painfully vulnerable.

words weren’t exchanged as the three of you walked towards each other, and he promptly engulfed his mother into a tight hug before he could talk himself out of it.

“how is he?” he whispered into the side of her head, choosing to ask then, in the middle of a hug, because he didn’t know if he could stand the look on her face when she answered.

“he’s alive,” she managed to get out, but she said it so tentatively that he knew it was too soon to feel any sort of relief.

“but…?” he recalls asking with bated breath.

“it was a hemorrhagic stroke. it’s… it’s bad, katsuki.”

it wasn’t until a few more hours later, when the two of you were finally granted permission to enter masaru’s hospital room together with mitsuki, did he realize what bad meant.

some parts of this story are blurry now, but the way his stomach dropped at the sight of his father remains to be unforgettable.

the sight of him paralyzed, head to toe.

masaru remained confined in the hospital for a few weeks more after that. the three of you took turns—one would go home to clean up and catch some sleep while the remaining two kept watch and assisted the man.

you almost got booted out of there on the second day, with the nurse saying only immediate family was allowed due to overcrowding in the hospital, but bakugou was quick to step in and say you were practically married.

when the nurse politely pressed for more details while looking pointedly at your ring finger and the lack of a wedding band, he lied and said you forgot to wear it in your rush to get there.

she didn’t seem too convinced, but she thankfully let it go, probably because it was #2 pro-hero dynamight who said so, eventually exiting the room after checking masaru’s vitals.

he remembers you heaving a sigh of relief once the three of you were left alone, tossing him a small smile that sent a familiar shot of longing straight to his veins.

one day, he recalls thinking to himself, you will be married.

just—not now.

the first day home was as much of a nightmare as he expected it to be.

growing up, and until that moment, he never really found himself wanting siblings.

sure, it got pretty lonely during his childhood, but he almost always had kids following him around what with how flashy his quirk is, and he had izuku, which he can now admit was (and still is) his best friend.

plus, you always said you loved how he’d roughhouse you, which you chalked up to him being an only child and not having had the opportunity to do that with anyone else.

but, as the three of you struggled to lift masaru out of the car and into his newly minted wheelchair, he remembers wishing for a brother or a sister who could lend a helping hand and make sure all of masaru’s numb body parts were carefully looked out for.

it’s fucking hilarious, how he didn’t just lift his father all by himself with his pro-hero muscles, but the fear of accidentally hurting him even more turned out to be more paralyzing than he anticipated.

not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

not even you.

but as he watched you and his mother fluttering around, tending to masaru’s needs not even a minute you get in the house, it struck him that maybe he should.

you might not be his sibling (thank god, no), but you will most likely become his parents’ daughter if things go his way.

and, whether he liked it or not, he’s got to do something about the growing ache in his chest that’s only growing wider by the second.

the next few weeks he spent busying himself with the stuff that came with looking after a stroke patient.

mitsuki, who’s done nothing but throw herself into caring for her husband, insisted on helping him find the people they needed, but bakugou didn’t even let her get a word in.

when he tucked himself into bed right next to you later that night in his new bedroom (you moved in with him to his parents’ despite his protests), he recalls ranting about how the old hag was getting on his nerves with her inability to just let him handle shit.

“have i ever been incompetent?” he huffed, turning on his side so he could lie facing you. “it’s like she doesn’t even trust me.”

“i think the two of you just want the same for the other, kats,” came your steady yet gentle voice, not missing a beat and totally unfazed by his petulant behavior.

“…waddya mean?”

you reached out to caress his cheek, and he remembers how soft your fingers felt and how his eyes momentarily fluttered close at the warmth.

at the sight, you flashed him a sad smile before pressing on.

“you’re both hurting, but the two of you would rather carry the weight by yourselves instead of burdening the other. it’s how you and mitsuki show you care.”

he didn’t say anything after that.

at least, for a while.

finally, he speaks up. “…i just don’t like to be bossed around, is all.”

to that, you only toss him a knowing look. “yup, just that. definitely. never mind your immense sense of responsibility and the stubborn yet admirable way you carry everybody’s bur—”

“yeah, yeah,” he cut you off before you could ramble any further. “i get it.”

seemingly satisfied, you grinned up at him before pulling him close, cradling his head by your chest.

with the new position, he could feel your familiar, rhythmic heartbeat.

your heartbeat that he liked to listen to for reassurance—telltale evidence that you’re alive and right next to him, and that no villain has wrestled you out of his firm grip.

and as he lay there snuggled into you and listening to the consistent pulse, he found his frantic, loud thoughts slowly but steadily being lulled to a hum.

thoughts that he knew you’d kick to the moon if you found out he’s been thinking them.

thoughts like maybe he’s just selfishly gatekeeping all the tasks so he could distract himself from the pain that’s threatening to swallow him whole.

thoughts like maybe he deserved this for all the wrong he’s done growing up.

thoughts like maybe his mother would be in far less pain if it were him instead of his saint of a father who had to go through this.

he fell into a fitted sleep that night.

after a few more weeks of searching for and screening applicants, and with your and mitsuki’s approval, he finally settled on a stay-in caregiver and physical therapist.

it took quite a while for the two to learn the ropes and master how he wanted things to be done around here, but they eventually got there, and when they did, they cleared a lot of stuff that has been on everybody’s plates ever since masaru had the stroke.

with that, mitsuki insisted the two of you go home to your shared condominium and get back into working full-time again, but neither of you relented. he tried to get you to return, not wanting to hold you back from the important things that you do, but you were quick to dismiss him.

he didn’t tell you then and there, but he secretly wished you would.

he’d never confess this to anybody, but he’d definitely crumble without you around.

he remembers one specific thursday, when you first started getting masaru into exercising his left, albeit non-dominant hand, by drawing.

it was silly, but he recalls not even being able to look his father in the eye as two of you sat across from him who was plastered in his wheelchair, a small coffee table between you, on which sat a piece of paper, a pencil, a box of crayons, and an all might plushie you swiftly grabbed from his bedroom.

and as he sat there avoiding his father’s gaze, he watched you as you talked animatedly to the man, explaining the deceivingly simple activity: he just had to try and draw the plushie, after which, if he still had the energy, he could color in using the crayons you dug out from bakugou’s drawers.

but masaru wasn’t having it.

the man only stared at you in disinterest as you tried your best to engage him. despite himself, bakugou feels indignation creep up his spine.

he knew. fuck, he really did. after he made sure you’ve fallen asleep, he had spent nights researching his father’s condition, poring over mountains and mountains of information all in the name of being able to better understand and help him.

so he knew—he knew that strokes, especially severe ones, can cause noticeable changes in one’s personality, at least in the short term. it can turn someone sensitive and in tune with others’ emotions into someone who’s apathetic and seemingly self-absorbed.

still, that knowledge doesn’t stop him from jumping on his feet when masaru, his kind, sweet father, angrily wipes off the table with his left arm, sending the materials you worked hard to gather scattered all over the floor.

and, before he could stop himself: “hey!”

you were onto him in an instant, a soothing albeit restraining hold on his shoulder. “katsuki, it’s okay.”

he was about to open his mouth to spit venom when he felt you tighten your grip. he didn’t have to glance at you to know you were looking at him the way you always did when you were begging him to stay quiet.

and because he loved (loves) you, he did.

and as he wordlessly picked up the papers and pens in silence, he couldn’t help but mourn over his father, and the patience and calmness that characterized his being.

the very patience and calmness that he always wished he had, instead of his temper and aggressiveness, because that’s what you, of all people, deserved.

and then the all-too-familiar guilt hit him again.

because why was he acting like his father died, when he was still very much alive?

simple, bakugou thought to himself.

it’s because it feels like he has.

his relationship with masaru didn’t get better after that.

he’d been trying, he really had been. if not for you, who’d been tending to his father like he was your very own, then for his mother, whose fatigue and grief have been chipping away at her by the minute.

he was washing the dishes in the kitchen after you’ve had dinner—all the while his parents watched tv in the living room—when you walked in, a couple more dirty plates in tow.

he wouldn’t have noticed he was glaring down at the brick of butter on the shelf if you didn’t point it out.

“a few more seconds and that’s gonna melt,” you quipped.

he looked back at you, gears in his head turning for a beat, before he chuckled half-heartedly and turned back to the sink.

behind him, he recalls hearing a click, which he now identifies as you putting down the plates on the kitchen island, before he felt your arms wrap around his middle, encasing him in a hug.

your voice was smooth when you drawled out, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?”

still, and despite all the shit that’s been going on in his life, he still found himself shuddering at the pet name.

“nothing.”

“really?” came your immediate response. “because i was getting kinda jealous with how hard you were staring at that butter.”

at that, bakugou couldn’t help but snort. you followed suit, that delightful laugh echoing across the small room.

“stupid,” he simply retorted, although both of you knew there was no bite to it.

you didn’t press him for more after that, choosing to just hold yourself against his back in comfortable silence—which he now knows he’s grateful for.

because at that time, he couldn’t have told you he was feeling nothing but resentment for his pitiful father.

his pitiful father who loved to put butter in virtually every dish he whipped up.

his pitiful father who probably wouldn’t be pitiful if he just led an active lifestyle, monitored his health, and made better choices so that his poor mother wouldn’t have to go through all this.

his train of thought was interrupted, however, when a pang of that same old guilt hit his chest, and then he was once again flooded with scalding shame.

because what else should he be feeling for his father aside from empathy, as someone who has had far too many brushes with death itself?

“…katsuki?”

he recalls jolting ever so minutely, before turning his head to look at you, who, by then, was already standing behind him, apparently already having released him from the hug.

“huh?”

“i was just asking you,” you continued as if he didn’t just zone out. “our friends want to come by and visit, if you’re okay with it. is that alright with you?”

the last thing he needed was for his nerd-ass friends to visit and witness his family’s dirty laundry, which would inevitably be aired out for them to see given the circumstances. his entire life, he always, always, kept those from prying eyes, even if they were his closest buddies’.

but, at the mention of his friends, he found his heart clenching in yearning despite himself.

and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded in approval.

“…and so that’s how i saved the little girl who was convinced i was the bad guy!”

he remembers everyone in the room erupting in laughter at kirishima’s story, even masaru, who’s been steadily gaining control of the left side of his body back.

his right has seen little to no improvement, but you and mitsuki have been making it a point to celebrate every win, no matter how small.

at kirishima’s gag, bakugou himself couldn’t help the somewhat imperceptible smirk that encroached on his face, which izuku, unfortunately, caught sight of. the #1 pro-hero beamed at him, and it took bakugou every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes at the nerd.

“what about you, midoriya-kun?” asked mitsuki, who’s seated on a stool right beside her husband, who’s nestled comfortably in the reclining chair you got him about a month ago.

at the call out, the green-haired man shifted his attention to the lady, before sheepishly retorting with: “oh, i just try to be funny.”

that granted him his round of laughter, and this time bakugou finally allowed himself to give into the visceral urge to roll his eyes.

he must’ve been being so obvious with his expressions, because it’s you who managed to catch him again, shooting him a chastising but nevertheless playful look.

before he could wink at you or do anything in response, though, he recalls mitsuki standing up quite abruptly, startling the five of you.

you shot her a question before anyone else could. “what is it, mitsuki-san?”

“i didn’t notice! we’ve run out of tea and snacks. sorry—” she leaned down to get the trays, “—let me get some mo—”

“i’ll do it!” volunteered the ever-good-natured izuku, who moved so fast the plates were on him before the rest could blink.

“i’ll help the nerd,” bakugou added, standing up before taking some of the cups from his rival lest the latter drops them.

at the uncharacteristically generous offer, izuku once again beamed at him, which bakugou immediately dismissed with a wave of a hand.

the short trek to the kitchen was quiet amidst the background noise, which has been brought up a notch thanks to kirishima’s vivid storytelling.

without a word, bakugou gestured where to get a refill on the snacks while he busied himself with brewing more tea.

the silence that engulfed them was comfortable—familiar—that was, until, izuku broke it.

“thanks again, kacchan.”

bakugou felt his eye twitch at the nickname. “for what?”

izuku turned on his feet to regard his best friend, a grateful smile gracing his boyish features. “for letting me and ei visit. i just wanted you to know i appreciate it. i’m sure it’s not easy having guests around while, you know…”

he wasn’t about to tell the nerd he and kirishima were the only ones he felt comfortable enough to visit at the moment, so he merely nodded.

(un)fortunately, the greenhead took it as a sign to continue.

“she’s been amazing, huh?”

bakugou met the man’s soft gaze, which was directed toward you.

“yeah,” came his sure reply. he remembers not even knowing where to start, so he just simply left it at that.

a pregnant pause.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan.”

that caught him off guard.

he must’ve looked stunned, because izuku shrugged quite timidly, before: “we all see how hard you’re working.”

the #1 pro-hero hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.

“…but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, alright?”

and just as fast as he scooped the trays back in the living room, izuku patted him on the shoulder before taking the cups from him and waltzing rather clumsily out of the kitchen.

later that night, bakugou found himself unable to fall asleep.

it’s been ages since you both got into bed, and you were now on your side with your back turned against him, probably already fast asleep.

he recalls just staring up at the off-white ceiling, playing back in his head the earlier conversation he had with izuku again and again and again.

“you’ve been doing great, too, kacchan,” was what the nerd said.

if he only knew.

if he only knew the terrible thoughts that had been plaguing his mind since shit went down.

there’s a reason why he hasn’t said a single word about the things he’d been thinking since day one.

there’s a reason why he’s kept all of this shit to himself even though they were fucking heavy to carry all on his own.

it was because he was scared of them, and even more scared of what people would make of him when he finally verbalized them into existence.

what you would make of him.

he’s spent most of his life running away from who he used to be, that the mere thought that he might have just always been that guy this entire time is like a fucking 100% detroit smash to the gut.

he didn’t even notice he was crying until he felt a single tear go down the side of his face.

he quickly reached up to wipe it away.

to his horror, he felt you shift beside him, and he found himself frozen in fear as he waited for you to settle into another position in your sleep.

but that didn’t come.

instead, he remembers so, so clearly how you turned to face him—absolutely, evidently wide awake—with such a worried expression on your gorgeous face, and how he just completely lost it at the sight of you.

he remembers how you scooped him into your arms as ugly sobs finally wracked his body, how you led his arms to wrap around your waist to help anchor him as he cried into your chest.

he remembers the soothing circles you rubbed on his back as you started to cry with him, your sniffles the only thing he hears aside from his own weeping.

he remembers the way your voice cracked when you started whispering ‘i’m here’s’ in his ear. and, he doesn’t know if it’s because that line carries a massive fucking weight for him, or that it’s you—the love of his life—who’s saying them, but the words wash over the entirety of his exhausted body like a violent storm, leaving him shivering in its wake.

he remembers deciding then and there, that he was going to tell you everything.

maybe tomorrow, but not now.

for now, and in the safety of your arms, he finds himself finally allowing the grief—the grief that he’s unknowingly been trying to tamp down—to come forward and make itself known.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

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